


Solitude

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-18
Updated: 2006-03-18
Packaged: 2018-08-16 06:48:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8091799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: Post-3.10 "Similitude" conversation between T'Pol and Tucker. Postep. (11/22/2003)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

Commander Tucker paced the corridors of Enterprise. The service for Sim had disturbed him. It was unsettling. It was as if he was attending his own funeral. 

He shuddered when he thought about it. His clone wandered these same halls, acting like him, talking like him. It unnerved the engineer to the point of restlessness. Phlox had said to rest, but Trip couldn't. How could he? He owed some genetic experiment his life. Some genetic experiment that had slipped into the familiar role of Chief Engineer on board this ship. Trip wasn't sure how to feel about that. Archer hadn't told him much, nor had Phlox. They just said Sim was very real and very human. _They're protecting me_ , thought Trip. _But from what?_

This scared Trip more than anything they've encountered so far. A clone. His clone. _Him_. Doing what while he was in a coma, near death? Why wouldn't anyone tell him anything? 

Judging by the looks he'd been getting all day, Trip figured he wasn't the only one freaked out by the events of the past week. People looked at him oddly, no doubt wondering if he was the same guy as before or if he'd been given Sim's brain as a transplant. Trip didn't know whether to be sad, angry, betrayed, or happy. He was grateful, that was about all he knew. He was alive. He had a bit of a headache, but that was to be expected. Wasn't it?

Trip stopped and looked up. He found himself outside her quarters. 

"Imagine that," he said softly. A shaky hand reached towards the buzzer. He stopped himself.

_What are you doing here?_ said a voice in his head. _You don't have a session tonight._

_I need someone who will tell me the truth. T'Pol won't lie to me_ , he reasoned with himself.

_That's not why you're here and you know it._

Trip knew he was right. Trying to convince himself with a plausible explanation was illogical.

_Oh God, I sound like T'Pol._

_Admit it, Tucker. You don't want to be alone and you feel more comfortable in her quarters than you do in your own._

He did feel alone, inexplicably so. Trip knew there was only one other person on this ship that could feel even more alone than he did right now. Which is why you're here.

Taking a deep breath, he reached out and pushed the buzzer.

* * *

 

The sound of the door chime startled her out of her reading. T'Pol felt disjointed enough to take out her teachings of Surak. She had felt off-center, unbalanced somehow. She now rose gracefully from her bed to answer the door. As it slid open to reveal her guest, T'Pol felt her heart drop to her stomach. She just stared at him for a moment, his gaze never wavering. 

"Can I come in?" asked Commander Tucker. His posture, his voice, his expression was so much like Sim's that night. T'Pol blinked.

_It *is* Commander Tucker this time_ , she told herself. Not trusting her voice just yet, T'Pol stepped aside. He strode in past her and stopped in the middle of her room. He turned to look at her. T'Pol moved cautiously closer. If she had thought about it, she'd have been puzzled by her own reaction to her visitor.

"I know we don't have a neuro-pressure session tonight," said Trip by way of opening. "And I know I should be restin', but I...I just...can I sit down?"

T'Pol blinked again, regaining her control. "Please," she said and gestured to the bed.

Trip sat slowly, his movements unsure. His hands ran nervously up and down his thighs. His eyes darted about the room in confusion. T'Pol noted the look of fear in his eyes. She felt something in her chest tighten. His gaze settled on hers.

"Why do I feel so alone?" Trip's voice was barely above a whisper, his eyes pleading with hers for an answer.

It was certainly not what T'Pol expected him to say. She did not know how to answer him. She slowly made her way across the room and sat next to him on the bed. 

"What happened, T'Pol?" Trip's head dropped into his hands. 

"What do you mean?" she asked. She could feel her heart rate increase.

Trip's fingers massaged his temples. He let out a long sigh and finally looked up at her. His shoulder rose and fell in a half shrug. "I feel like I've just made some kinda huge sacrifice. I feel more alone than I ever have in my life. And I don't know why, T'Pol. I don't remember anything after the accident, but I _feel_ like I do. I feel...something...impressions...ghosts..." His voice trailed off and his head dropped down again.

T'Pol felt a nervous fluttering in her stomach. This was far more serious than she'd thought.

"What did Dr. Phlox tell you?" she asked quietly.

He sighed again. "Not a hell of a lot." His fingers rubbed his temples again. "I was cloned so that brain tissue could be grown for a transplant."

"What else?" she probed.

"That the Doc named him Sim and that he had free reign around here. That he had an accelerated lifespan. That he was a person with sentience," replied Trip. He looked at T'Pol. "Did you spend time with him?" 

"Some," she said honestly. T'Pol watched as the commander winced when he nodded. "Are you in pain?"

"Headache."

"Lie down."

Trip's head snapped up, provoking another wince.

"I'll help to alleviate your pain," said T'Pol. She swung her legs up and sat with them folded underneath her. She gestured for him to lie down.

Trip sat for a moment and then complied. He stretched out on her bunk, gently resting his head in her lap. He peered up at her.

"What was he like?" Trip asked softly. "Was he a jerk? Did he do something to someone?"

"What makes you say that?" T'Pol's fingers began to rub gently into his temples.

Trip shrugged and closed his eyes. "Seems like everyone's been avoiding me."

"It's been a strange and difficult situation for everyone," she replied. "And no, he wasn't a...jerk...at all." She had no idea what her professional boundaries were on this subject. T'Pol had figured the doctor and captain would have debriefed the commander. Apparently she had been wrong and now he was here for answers. 

"So...what was he like?"

T'Pol thought for a moment. What was she supposed to tell him? She was no medical professional, and she certainly didn't have the credentials to be playing psychiatrist. The facts. Just the facts. 

She felt his fingers on hers, snapping her out of her thoughts. She hadn't realized she'd ceased her activity. T'Pol looked down. Commander Tucker was almost grinning, his fingers trying to get hers moving again.

"He was..."

Trip raised his eyebrows, silently prodding her on.

"He was you."

His hands fell away from hers and his eyes closed. A frown creased his forehead.

"Me?" 

"Yes." She nodded.

"Me," Trip repeated.

"But he was different, as well." T'Pol paused, not sure how to say what she needed him to know. "Sim didn't possess any of the preconceptions you did. He had nothing to hold him back. He was more...open with his emotions."

Trip looked up at her. This time he did smile. "Bet you never thought that was possible, huh?" 

The humor didn't last long and his smile faded. He closed his eyes again. "Tell me more."

T'Pol took a deep breath. "He was able to recall your memories." She thought for a moment and decided to continue. "And your feelings."

His eyes snapped open. A look of horror crossed his features. T'Pol felt him tense and eased her hands down to his neck, gently squeezing and rubbing.

"Aw, Hell. No wonder everyone's so freaked out," Trip whispered. His mouth opened and closed again. "Should I be embarrassed by that?"

"What do you mean?"

"Did he...say anything? About me? About my life? My family? My habits? He didn't give up any embarrassin' secrets from my childhood, did he?"

T'Pol looked down at her charge. "No."

Trip sighed with relief. A sudden wave of desperation rolled over him. He looked up at T'Pol in a panic.

"Commander?"

"What's happening to me, T'Pol?" His voice cracked. "Am I feelin' what he felt before he died?"

"I...I don't know," she said honestly. Her fingertips were back at his temples, massaging small circles. 

"I don't like feeling this alone." 

T'Pol felt a warm wetness under her fingertips. She looked down and brushed away his tears.

"Is that how he died?" Trip asked. "All alone? On a biobed? If he was so much like me, why didn't he feel the love I feel from everyone? Why couldn't they have treated him like me?" With each question, his voice rose higher and higher. "If he was good enough to save my life, dammit, why wasn't he good enough to be treated like me?"

"I cannot answer that," said T'Pol softly. Never had she felt so helpless.

"I'd have never let that happen," Trip sniffed.

"It never would have if you weren't dying," she pointed out.

"I can feel what he felt, T'Pol. There was only one true moment of happiness. One instance where he felt like he belonged."

Their gazes met. He blinked back more tears.

"You had something to do with that, didn't you?" he whispered. He took her hands and held them in his under his chin.

They stared at one another for a moment. T'Pol broke the silence. "Perhaps you should try and sleep."

"Isn't anyone gonna ask me how I feel about all this?" 

She continued to look at him, waiting. Her fingers found their way to his hair, gently stroking as he worked through his grief. He turned onto his side, slipping an arm around her leg and hugging it tightly. She could feel the hot tears soaking into her pajamas. Her hand continued to stroke his hair. T'Pol was at a loss for words.


End file.
